I read this book Endless Love by Scott Spencer many year ago, as a teenager who was newly charting out the landscape of romantic love and the words in this novel have haunted me ever since. Maybe it had to do something with where I was in life when I read that book (newly and madly in love), or maybe the amalgamation of passion to the point of dangerousness piqued me, but somehow I still shudder when I think of this novel. There was a movie made based on this novel this year and it was a major disappointment. The film actually KILLED the novel in its essence.
In the entire book, the protagonist is being observed/evaluated/questioned for being mentally unstable (the novel starts with him setting fire to his girlfriends home after being jilted by her family) and yet, after many years, this is what he writes to her.
“I don’t want to say it, I truly don’t, but if you’ve gone this far I suppose it’s obvious that what was ignited when I loved you continues to burn. But that’s of small importance to you now, and that’s how it should be. Everything is in its place. The past rests, breathing faintly in the darkness. It no longer holds me as it used to; now I must reach back to touch it. It is night and I am alone and there is still time, a moment more. I am standing on a long black stage, with a circle of light on me, which is my love for you, enduring. I have escaped—or have been expelled—from eternity and am back in time. But I step out once more to sing this aria, this confession, this testament without end. My arms open wide, not to embrace you but to embrace the world, the mystery we are caught in. There is no orchestra, no audience; it is an empty theater in the middle of the night and all the clocks in the world are ticking. And now for this last time, Jade, I don’t mind, or even ask if it is madness: I see your face, I see you, you; I see you in every seat.”